


i crave constant motion; i fall honestly

by tiesmp3



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Slow Dancing, anyway!, im SO bad at writing fluff wbk all i can do is dancing fics, im just like i just love THEM ONLY, see: my dps fic with a similar premise to this except theyre both you know. alive., soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 07:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18331286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiesmp3/pseuds/tiesmp3
Summary: i feel so discouragedlaced in broken dreamsi’ve paid up my balancewhen will i find relief- “holy water”, morgxnor, klaus has nightmares when he’s sober—but he also has dreams.





	i crave constant motion; i fall honestly

**Author's Note:**

> i love them only thats it thats the note
> 
> this ended up being rly short bc i lost motivation i’m sorry class i hope u can still enjoy it anyway

when klaus is sober, he dreams.

for the most part, they’re the awful kind—they’re nightmares, frankly, full of the  _ literal  _ screams of the  _ literal _ damned and flashes of a past he’s tried time and time again to forget. but the drugs cannot mask the years and years of trauma, of darkness, of screams, all calling out for him.

when klaus is high, he does not dream—or, at least, he cannot remember them. but when klaus is sober, he does dream. he dreams of the dead, of the screaming, of the very things he’s risked his entire life to forget. 

but among the dead is dave.

and, well, dave—dave is one of those that klaus would  _ never  _ forget.

so, for klaus, sobriety is a challenge—as it is for any addict, he supposes—but it’s one he can manage. because, for klaus, sobriety means getting the chance to see the one person he’d ever give his life for again.

klaus’s dreams are sickening.

he thrashes in bed through the screeching—sticks fingers in his ears and does nothing to muffle the shouting—cries and gasps and hiccups and sobs because  _ what else is there to do? _

but then, it all stops.

as dreams tend to do, the nightmares end.

and they give way to the dream klaus waits for every night.

in front of him stands the love of his life, hand outstretched and smiling, a genuine and ear to ear grin that’s contagious. klaus sits on a stool in a little 50s-esque diner, watching him with hazy eyes and a soft, close-mouthed smile of his own.

klaus will say something witty and sarcastic, like “oh, you’re  _ such _ a romantic, i’m flattered,” and dave will giggle because he finds klaus hilarious (and, honestly, who wouldn’t? thank you very much), and then he’ll reply with something like “oh, but of course,” goofy grin stretching as he wiggles his fingers.

and klaus will smile back, because, well, like he said, dave’s grin is contagious. it’s dangerous, almost, the way that dave makes all of klaus’s defenses disappear.

the hairs on his neck rise at the thought. but he pushes it away, savoring the moment.

and he reaches out for dave’s hand.

sometimes, he’ll have this dream, and dave will always be out of reach. he’ll stretch and stretch until his arm should be out of its socket, but he’ll never seem to be able to get to him, a cruel reminder of the reality of their situation.

but this time, like some other times, klaus’s hand meets with dave’s. and with a laugh—that damned laugh—dave pulls klaus up off the stool, and klaus looks dave in those beautiful blue eyes, speechless.

“care to dance?” dave drawls, forcing his voice to be huskier and more raw. klaus laughs, reaching up his free hand to hold dave’s face, smile fading, eyes wide with a childlike wonder.

this is the person he loves the most in the world—the person who, he can say with absolute confidence, loves  _ him  _ the most in the world. and klaus gets to hold him close, at least in this moment, freely.

“i thought you’d never ask,” klaus finally answers, breaking the silence, breathy and quiet and cautious as he entwines his fingers with dave’s. dave pulls klaus’s other hand up, then, and traces his thumb on the words tattooed along the crevices of his palm. klaus knows that dave barely has to look anymore—it’s a homely familiarity that  _ both  _ of them can latch onto, one which they both so desperately need.

admittedly, dave has never been much of a dancer. klaus knows this, but he lets dave lead him anyway. it’s clumsy and sweet and reminiscent of simpler times—for one, when they were both…

well. alive, for one.

young, stupid, silly, and alive. that’s all they were.

and, in this moment, that’s all they are.

dave feigns caution in guiding klaus through something that barely resembles a waltz, its simple one-two-three motions fused with rapid spins and the sporadic kick and laughter. real, genuine laughter. klaus misses this, he realizes, feeling a pang in his chest.

but, well. for now, they’re here, and dave has his arms hanging lazily over klaus’s shoulders—he’s slowed down, now, swaying to some frank sinatra song crooning softly over the jukebox that klaus didn’t even know was there.

klaus and dave are inches away from one another’s faces—he can feel dave’s breath when he lets out a small chuckle, and he smiles, too, beside himself with a joy he hasn’t felt in ages.

and, almost impulsively, klaus pulls his hands from where he’d been holding loosely onto dave’s midsection and cups dave’s face softly in his hands. right there, right then, klaus decides, he has never wanted to kiss anyone more.

and kiss him he does. dave doesn’t even react, at least at first—but then he smiles, and pulls klaus closer by his shoulders. klaus takes it all in: the warmth of dave’s body, the softness of his lips, the feeling of that damn smile. and when dave pulls away from him klaus feels this hollowness settle into his stomach, but dave does not leave him.

the two stand, holding one another like it’s the end of the world, simultaneously millions of worlds apart and centimeters away.

klaus knows he’s going to wake up at some point. but for now, he decides, there’s no need to worry about a future that will bring him nothing good—so he just looks up at dave, grinning, and takes the world’s clearest mental image of the smile he gets in return.

**Author's Note:**

> hi yall! hope u enjoyed uwu
> 
> i do this a lot! follow me on my various social media:  
> instagram: @circularmotio.n (video edits)  
> twitter: @wtmbway  
> tumblr: @vitalmp3
> 
> leave kudos + comments if u please; theyre greatly appreciated and they FUEL my need for validation, and also will help to get u more content of this disaster family, if thats what youre into.
> 
> stay healthy, stay safe, and stan robert sheehan. love you!


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